A Long Forgotten Story
by BaharCan'tFly
Summary: It is the first Quarter Quell. The 25th Hunger. The only Hunger Games that the people would choose the Tributes. well, Who would they choose? Tom Marvolo Riddle...
Hello, Dear Readers

The following Fanfiction, is a crossover between Harry Potter and Hunger Games.

None of the Hunger Games' characters make an appearence except for President Snow and maybe Mags since this story is taking place at the time of the first quarter quell. in which the tributes were selected by people's votes.

My main character is going to be Tom Marvolo Riddle. A year before he opens the Chamber of Secrets. so it would be the summer before his sixth year and he would be 15 here. this story would explore the events that lead Tom to convert to Voldemort. I know, It's an overused topic, but at the same time It's not elaborate enough for the fans. And don't give me the whole "Because he's EVIL!1!" crap, cause there has to be something that _turned_ him evil.

anyway, I do not own the characters you recognize but I do own the other characters.

 **Where we're from**

 **There's no sun**

 **Our hometown's in the dark**

~Hometown-Twenty One Pilots

A fifteen year old boy sat on the foot of his bed. well, It wasn't _his_ bed since he was 11. No, His bed was somewhere between Scotland and England, Where his school was. where his _home_ was. This wasn't his home, It never was nor would it ever be.

The said boy, was one of the most mysterious, smart and handsome you'd ever have the pleasure to meet. He had The night sky for hair, obsidians for eyes, snow for skin and roses for lips. Teachers' favorites, Top of the class… He was perfect in every perspective.

His long fingers were wrapped around an old green book, Which he had just finished reading. It was a series of short stories, but he always read one of them only , it was the one he hated, and at the same time, the only muggle story he ever showed some interest in. It was the only one that showed how pathetic muggles were. The story that he had read so many times, He probably could recite it backwards.

 _one day, a wise man gathered the villagers to tell them about a story. a story long forgotten. Finally, when every villager, young and old, male and female, were gathered, He stood on a podium and started the tale:_

" _once upon a time, There was a little boy. after a while he became a teen, got married, had children , worked hard and set up a business for himself." and then he fell silent. The audience waited for him to continue._

 _nothing happened._

 _eventually people grew impatient and shouted:"so what?!"_

 _The wise man shook his head and said:"You tell me. This was your story!"_

Tom hated that tale. It was so ordinary. So pathetic. So… hated each and every one of those words. He was _extra_ ordinary. But he couldn't help but feel that sometimes he wasn't.

Don't get him wrong. He knew that by being a wizard he was marked as special for life. But still not _extraordinary_. He wanted to be one of a kind. Different from everyone. He wanted to be remembered for centuries. The thought oblivion scared him. No. Tom Marvolo Riddle wouldn't be a forgotten tale.

A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. "Get ready Tom! We'd be late for the reaping!" said . One of the matrons of the Wool orphanage.

 _The reaping,of course._ Tom thought. Another reason why muggles were pathetic. Every year, They would select a girl and a boy between the ages of 12 to 18, from each district, and put them in an arena so that they had to battle each other to death. The last survivor won. It's served as a punishment for a rebellion 25 years ago. Though this year, It had a twist. The tributes were selected by peoples' votes.

Everything was clear even before the reaping. Districts 1,2,4 would send lethal call them 'the careers' . districts 3,5,6,7,8,9 would try and send the best thing they have after the careers. And districts 10,11 and 12-where Tom lived- would just sacrifice someone so their children would be safe. And that meant them. The orphans. No one would miss them. Would they?

Tom got off his bed and went to get his clothes were old and worn-out. He settled for a Black T-shirt and a pair of black jeans. After tying the shoelaces of his sneakers, He made it for the doorknob. He stopped for a moment to contemplate if he should take his wand with him.

"KIDS! WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE!" shouted from downstairs. Tom got out of his room. Leaving his wand. He wouldn't be needing it. plus the reaping took about 20 minutes. They would just announce the votes and then they would take the tributes away.

He went downstairs. was checking if all the children were there. and another matron, , was comforting one of the 12 year olds who was scared he would get picked. Tom resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

" Everyone is here. Let's go." shouted the last part for everyone to hear.

They walked to the Town's square. Where the reaping was held. They took a few drops of blood from everyone as an identification.

Finally when everyone was in their place. One of the ladies from the Capitol stood up on the podium. she looked like a dolphin. literary . The mayor was standing behind him. she congratulated the people for having the honor to witness the 'First Quarter Quell'.

They displayed a movie for the people. It was the same each year. about how the rebellion tore the country apart and etc. etc.

Finally when the movie was over. The Capitol dolphin started talking again:"well, and now for the greatest part of the evening." she grinned. "the tributes." She started clapping but realized that no one else was following the act. She cleared her throat and continued. "The votes have been all counted and the names of the tributes have been written on this-" she gestured to the golden card in her hand."-card. Now since we are not following the usual routine this year, We'd start with the men."

For some unknown reason,Tom's heart started beating faster. The lady opened the card and with a smile she announced:"and our first male tribute of district 12: Tom Marvolo Riddle!"

 _And the walls kept tumbling down_

 _In the city that we loved_

 _Grey clouds roll over the hills_

 _Bringing darkness from above_

 _How am I gonna be an optimist about this?_

~Pompeii-Bastille


End file.
